BCBR Wrap Up: Recovery is Pro.

^Recovery.

You know it's been a long haul when you're still sleeping past 11 on the fourth off-day following a race, but with the rain abated at last it's time to sum up and move on. So here it is BC Bike Race 2009 recap, 30-2 (my plate number). If we're lucky there will be a 30-1 version coming soon. After I'm done with all the nitpicky details, someone has to talk about his feelings...

Back in November I said something to the effect that we were trying to execute the perfect MTB stage race--an elusive creature of myth and legend that leads hundreds of adventurers back to the hunting grouds every year in pursuit of it's sinewy hide--and so the hunt continues.

Rolling into Transrockies 2008 (if Eric hears me say the T-word, one more time he'll probably slit my throat, but hey, it's agood opening) everythnig was dialed. I hadn't so much as changed my tires in three months, I raced my setup nearly every weekend and was riding with the same partner as the year before in a race I'd already ridden 2x. This is the definition of no surprises. Indeed, with the exception of s few flats (we weren't yet on the tubeless boat), we got out of TR2008 with no major time-sucking errors. Almost perfect.

Fast forward just over 10 months and I'm sitting in Vancouver with less training, a bike that just got finished a week earlier and a pair of new tires at a totally new venue with this new guy that hasn't raced all season and only brought half a bike. SURPRISED? Not really.

The most difficult part of stage racing is planning and logistics. If you're as into riding bikes as we are, you can't screw up the training part of the P&L too badly, but when it comes to dialing and testing gear, packing it up and getting to the church on time there's a certain degree of sphincter tension required. Most people simply throw bills at the problem to make it go away (you'd be amazed what $4k worth of complete new bike and $400 worth of airline baggage fees will get you) but when you're at best partially employed and your partner is a starving grad student you've gotta be your own wedding planner. Any wedding planner will tell you that you NEVER get away with overlooking the details. Of course Eric had just filed the divorce papers for his thesis 5 days previous, so the clipboard and walkie-talkie were firmly sitting in my lap, and I haven't been my usual risk-adverse self lately.

After a new cassette (my bike) and rear derailleur (Eric's), everything seemed to be rolling fine except for the annoying problem of my tires not wanting to stay on the rim. Of all people, I should know that if you have a strange catastrophic component failure when warming up for a big race IT WILL FAIL AGAIN IN THE RACE WHEN YOU LEAST WANT IT TO. But I'm a stubborn bastard, and bogarting two pairs of brand new tires (mine and Eric's) then ponying up for different (untested) rubber at retail prices was not on the radar. Not one tire survived to the end of the week in tubeless form.

Keith out of character take 2:

On our Friday warmup, Eric's seat stubbornly refused to stay tight. Did I personally drown the clamp in loctite? Nope. Was it loose again on the trail by day 2? Yep.

Keith out of character take 3:

When I found Eric's pedal nearly seized after day 5 did I insist on replacing it with the pair of spare pedals I brought? Nope. Did it fall off on the trail on day 6? Yep.

Then there was that time I landed on my face...



Total lost time (including getting lost for 10min on day 4): about an hour. Total number of places that could have bumped us up in the GC: 4. Somewhat less than perfect.

But let's talk about riding bikes:

BCBR is a very different sort of stage race than what I was used to. TR is all about vertical ... and suffering. A hour long 10% climb in the sun is standard fare for TR, as is hiking with a bike on your back. Technical riding, for the most part, means threading the needle between loose rocks and ruts at 30mph. Singletrack is something you have to ride through to get to your next jeep trail up a mountain. BCBR is exactly the opposite. If you can't ride your bike, you might as well go home. At the same time distances, vertical and ride times are all significantly shorter.

Interestingly, our ride this year was exactly as fast (or slow), wrt the leaders, as George's and my ride last year in TR (144% of the winning time) despite the vast differences between the two races. It's probably a coincidence but I choose to believe it's a statement about how slow we are riding north shore tech because we climbed way faster this year. (As a point of comparison, the #2 team in both races included Barry Wicks, so one can expect that they're roughly comparable in terms of relative competitiveness at the front.) Fitness was definitely not a significant limitation for me, though I would have loved an extra tricep on each side for the downhills. More about training in future posts...

If there's one thing for sure, it's that riding big mountain singletrack forces you to become a better rider. Stiffening up on a 20 or 30 min technical descent means not making it to the bottom without a rest, and riding loose means trusting your skills at drop-offs, staying off the brakes and getting comfy with your seat in your gut. I'd like to think we do all that better now. The skinnies still scare me a little, but that didn't stop me from more than once hitting one way too fast and coming out the other side in one piece with my heart in my throat. Adrenaline makes you faster, after all.

A note about teamwork, or maybe team chemistry:

One of the hardest parts of stage races (the team variety) is making the most of the fact that everything will always be twice as screwed up as when you're riding solo--2x the mechanicals, 2x the bonking, 2x the snoring in the tent at night (though I maintain I don't snore). Somebody is always faster, and nothing is ever 100% in your control [grinds teeth]. Coming into BCBR, I expected this to be particularly challenging for our team with Eric off the race scene for so long, riding an old bike, and totally new to the crazy adventure we were about to embark upon. I can also be ultra-competitive, passive-aggressive when annoyed or disappointed and generally a huge know-it-all at times, though I try to keep it in check as much as possible...

In addition, while the TR rules allowed me to vent any pent-up frustration through my hand directly into my partner's back, BCBR said no touching so we were both riding our own races no matter what (and all you people pushing your buddies uphill for extended periods are dirty cheaters!)

However the relationship progressed over the course of the week, it's final state was best summed up by the experience of changing Eric's flat on day 7:

Hearing a loud "BANG" a few riders behind me, I instinctively knew that Eric's tire was off. I Jumped into a hollow off to the side of the trail and by the time I had the CO2 out Eric was there. I pulled the wheel and tubeless valve while he dug out a tube, which I then pre-inflated while he cleaned the rim. Working from both ends we then seated the tire together and I inflated it while he picked up the spare bits. Off and on in three minutes flat through neatly coordinated teamwork [Fist Bump].

I could go on and try to make some sort of profound statement about how the BCBR experience has changed my life perspective or something like that, but really it just makes me want to go back and ride it all over again. Besides, Eric's the reflective one.

In case you were wondering, Pedal and Wrench will live on post BCBR. We still like bikes and still have WiFi...

All the BCBR photos here.

BCBR Stage 7: Race ya fer Beeahs

In the spirit of today's stage, I'll be quick. Real quick. Stage 7 of BCBR was 30k long, had 1200m of vert... ...and started by shooting straight up a ski hill. We came out as hard as we could go, securing a solid position on the climb, and ended up in a lengthy party train on the singletrack descent where Eric soon blew a tire (sorry Panaracer, no more noTubes for you), allowing the whole train to pass while we tubed up. It was off to the races again after that, passing plenty of others with flats on the rest of the way down.

Unfortunately for us, there were more than a few people who really really wanted to get ot the beer tent ASAP, because despite our best efforts we came 22nd on the day and only picked up 5 minutes on our closest competitor, leaving us at 22nd overall in the GC.

and so to the beer...

Full week recap coming soon.

BCBR Stage 6: Hot Buttered Hammerfest

I should have been a little more concerned last night when I found Eric's pedal (Crank Bros. Candy) noticeably difficult to turn. It looked like the (cosmetic) end cap on the axle was just broken and jammed up inside the cage, and sure enough pulling it out loosened everything up nicely. Having done this multi-day stage race thing a couple times now, I should know what happens once WILL happen again when you least want it to--Murphy's law or something like that--but I left well enough alone. There's only a 6 hours or so of racing left, right?

After a start that nearly killed me (why is everyone all of a sudden racing again on day 6? I thought we got all that out of our systems on the island...) we dropped into a steep, dusty, switchback ridden descent where the rule was ride or get run over. It was tight, intense, and my arms were burning so bad I wanted nothing more than a ten foot high skinny to get everyone off their bikes for a while. Racing up with the fast kids ain't no joke.

Hitting the bottom I looked back for the first time, no Eric. Everybody on the party train rolls through, no Eric. I waited a couple minutes more, no Eric. This is SO not a time to eat dirt and slide (trust me, I tried it on day 3). Then here comes Eric, no PEDAL. The bearings were so seized it was unscrewing itself from the crank.

He reattaches and we roll. 10 minutes later, BUGGER.

If there are FIVE things (we're up to five now, right?) that one learns from stage racing, number five is how to manage adversity. Usually we're talking making a quick and clever fix to a broken part, mitigating the effects of fatigue through proper care, weathering adverse conditions and the like. Today I tried channeling adrenaline fueled rage into a 6mm allen key. Effectiveness? Let's just say I needed a 10" lever to get the pedal off again after the stage, but I digress.

We raced harder today than ever. Technical descents left little room for rest after climbing in the 85+ degree sun, and the stage finished with a 10k false flat time trial through the woods in town. Maybe we raced too hard? Maybe we won't recover? Eric is already bionic (has a neat tape thing that makes his knee not hurt) and I've already made a little human hamburger, but that's how it goes up here in the mountains. When you're pinning it up a climb (pinning it might not be far into zone 3 at this point), it's hard not to be asking the question "what about tomorrow?" The question transcends racing, really. Every moment we live has some effect on the next, yet if one spends every moment worrying about what comes next one never lives the now. Today we lived the now. 23rd on the day, moved up to 22 in the GC.

The now is bombing down a gnarly singletrack so steep you're riding the bike your chest and snapping up your head for a second to admire the amazing snow-capped peak framed between two trees as you fly past. The now is attacking a 30 degree climb like it's the last one of the day because you want to know if you can make it. The now is accelerating through a berm around a blind corner you've never seen and trusting the next berm will be there for you. Most of the time it will be.

Tonight we leave you with an example of life in the moment, trust in one's abilities and one of the best trails riders of all time (seen live after Stage 6 of BCBR), Ryan Leech "just turning around":



(sorry for the giganticness, no video editing here...)

Stage 7 is a sprint tomorrow. 30k, 1200m of vert up a ski hill and back. Leaders expected in 1:30! Gonna have to break out the reserve legs for that sort of silliness...

BCBR Stage 5: Reincarnation

Stages races are long. We made it over the hump of stage 4, but just barely. Though not our worst performance on the books, it was a stage I don't wish to recall, at least in detail. Perhaps my most pressing memory of the day is the 3 km mark for the second aid station, and then remarking later what a miserable hour that was (Keith assures me it was not nearly so long).

If my bike were as worn as I was yesterday, I wouldn't ride it to the Dairy Queen. I had entered that dark place where suffering surrounds every moment and every movement. With legs completely tapped and a haunting pain in my left knee, the day was a lesson in survival, or sisu as the Finns call it. I spoke few words that day, preferring to keep the darkness to myself. For the space of approximately 5 hours I hated my place in the world.

As if coming back from the dead, I pulled myself together and today we had a stellar ride, placing 18th in stage 5. We pushed hard at the beginning at latched onto the back of the pro group as we hit the singletrack. The climbs were to our liking, being not too steep, shady, and technical enough to put distance between us and those behind. The investment of altitude was returned in full by a bomber descent that for a period seemed endless in its twists and turns, dives and rolls through fern laden gullies. The finale of stage 5 was truly a work of art, inspired by generations of mountain bikers carefully crafting the most excellent and graceful of courses, which through its flow drew out our inner grace and unity with the world.

Finishing stage 5 in just a shade over 3 hours and 30 minutes, we were fortunate enough to make the early departure to Vancouver and enjoyed the afternoon sun on the deck of the ferry.



We celebrated the fruits of our labors with a nap under the shade of a tree near base camp, studying the course profile and the terrain for stage 6.

Team Pedal and Wrench will sleep well tonight, dreaming of big things tomorrow.

BCBR Stage 3: It's Only a Flesh Wound

Stage races may be an amazing way to sample a region's riding, and they're obviously effective at boosting one's fitness, but they're definitely NOT a good way to meet women. Like the majority of sporting events, BC Bike race is a sausage fest, so much so that all the normal annoyances that typically haunt the ladies like queues at the washroom and the shower are reversed, leaving the men frustrated and covetous of the empty stalls behind the doors labeled with a skirt.

You know you're starved for the company of the better smelling sex when the most enjoyable part of your day is getting gravel picked out of your face by the MASH nurse. Granted, the insertion of gravel into your face probably put a damper on the earlier part of the day by comparison, but we all know ho much the scrubby thing hurts...

So to begin: Shout out to Sharon for not being gentle. My future career in modeling thanks you.

On the theme of yesterday's post, if there are THREE things one learns from stage racing, the third is that in the game of flesh rock scissors, flesh never wins. The story isn't really that important, let's just say certain incidents could have been avoided with a little better attention (Don't worry mom, it got stitched up real nice).
Today's stage was 60km, 1600m of climbing (mostly on road), and tons of twisty rhythm singletrack of both the fast and the technical variety. Eric proved himself to be a true athlete, coming out stronger today than on days 1 or 2 and broke out everythnig he learned at Otis and on the road to both time trial the bejeezus out of the open flats sections and cruise the technical singletrack with a grace that left at least two teams soundly in the dust.

Stan's also came in handy in the last km, sealing a sizeable gash in Eric's rear tire (after the addition of CO2) well enough to keep us rolling to the finish without losing any places.

Overall Finish time was just a smidge over four hours for a week-best 25th on the day, bumping us to 27th(?) overall (unoffical results). Injuries clearly make us ride faster. If only the first aid didn't take 15min we would have been top 20.

I was pretty convinced up to an hour ago that we were pretty bad-@#$ dudes, with my crashing on my face doing 25 cents in km's and then making a monster team comeback, but then my ER doc offhandedly mentioned that he crashed his bike doing 200kph last week. He also puts out 104,398 watts at the track.

4:30 am wake up tomorrow, with much more racing to come.

BCBR Stage 2: Rocky 1 and Rocky 2

If there's one thing to be learned from stage racing, it's that shame, modesty and maintaining a pleasant odor are all overrated. This morning, we all rode a school bus to the ferry toting bag breakfasts complete with kiddie sized juice boxes. Not long after, we all changed into our gear on the ferry (many of us out in the open), and as I write this, the two guys in the tent next door are talking in great detail about their bowel movements. I'll spare you the details, but let's say more fiber is most likely called for. Being someone who says what he's thinking most of the time, The near-complete eschewing of all unnecessary social convention is one of the most liberating parts of the experience for me. Convention is silly, and deep down we all want to talk about poop.

If there are TWO things that one learns from stage racing, the second is that there are good days and bad days. Today, racing-wise was not a good day--or more appropriately, not a fast one. After a fast start and 25k of mid-blowingly good technical singletrack, Eric again battled his body chemistry for control of his leg muscles for the next 25k, and we spent about 10min being lost at about the halfway point. Despite nearly time-trialing me off his wheel on the long logging-road descent where we blew by at least three teams, we came in a somewhat disappointing 31st on the day, dropping to 30th overall.

On the upside, we had our first day without a mechanical, the Sauserwind tires are rock-solid (and fast), and Eric discovered "Sharkies", the elctrolyte fruit snack, which seem to agree with him nicely:
Oh yeah, and we also rode more than four hours on the best collection of singletrack we've ever seen.

Sleep now, go hard tomorrow.

PS: Eric made a cameo on Velonews.

BCBR Stage 1: Eric Lives to 30

Stage one of this year's BC Bike Race was short, intense and left nothing to the imagination. The course's 29km was packed with 1500m of vertical, most of which was gained and lost in a pair of super steep continuous ascents/descents. As a race season introduction the day was trial by fire for Eric, who was plagued by cramps but nonetheless rode confidently and spent most,but not all, of his time on the right side of the handlebars. The day was too much for the venerable Panaracers as well, which blew off my front rim on a hard hit with 20min to go, forcing the insertion of a tube and leaving a huge ding in my rim, pictured here after being bent back and filed smooth:

That's one blowout too many and an invitation for a testdrive of some Specialized Saucerwind 2.0 tires with the 2-Bliss bead. Impressions to come...

It's days like today that really make better riders. Crashing through the woods in a train of people with serious technical game (the level of technical riding here is way above that of other stage races I've done) you do a lot of things you never would have even thought of trying solo. Aggressiveness is the best remedy for excessive gnar. Most of the time you come out rubber side down. The rest of the time you aim for the soft dirt.

Overall finish today 26th. Bringing the pain to Nanaimo tomorrow, though the pain might only be felt in my lower back.